


Damaged

by C_St_Reed



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Cartoon Network - Freeform, Hankson - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, The Venture Bros., adult swim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_St_Reed/pseuds/C_St_Reed
Summary: Hank struggles to deal with seeing so much death in life. He reaches out to Brock to understand how he does it. Over time they become closer, and ultimately intimate.





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! I am new to the Venture Bros. fandom. I hope everyone thinks I did the character's justice in how they'd speak. I hope my terrible grammar doesn't distract you from the story attempting to be told. Yes there is going to be a sequel, I don't know how long those chapters are going to be or how long it will be until I write them. But I definitely already have the story mapped out in my head. I hope the slight pornographic scene isn't a deal breaker to some readers. Also since there isn't one I'm adopting the name Hankson for the Hank Venture and Brock Samson ship.

The battle with the Monarch was over the the Ventures had barely survived. Dead henchman bodies, scraps of orange costumes and pieces of shrapnel littered the front lawn of the Venture Industries building. The sun was setting and, the large bronze statue of now deceased Dr.Jonas Venture, holding young Rusty cast an ominous shadow over the battlefield.

Brock stood in that shadow in his ripped shirt and jeans covered in the blood of too many fallen enemies to count. His breathing was ragged as he held the Monarch’s throat in his powerful hand.

“Leave,” Brock spat at the feeble man in his hands, “now.” While weak, Brock was still able to throw the smaller man a good distance towards his Monarch-Mobile.

As he landed with a loud clatter ground, Brock turned toward Dr.Venture, Hank, and Dean and calmly pronounced, “Eh- I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“What? You’re not going to help clean this mess up?” Dr.Venture demanded as the Monarch’s Cocoon, and Mobile fled from the scene.

“You’ve got it handled Doc.”

“Fine. Hank, Dean, grab a limb and drag them to the incinerator.”

Dean begrudgingly picked up the first severed body part near him and started carrying it. “Hank,” he called while walking, “come on move it.”

Hank was frozen in place, everything was still settling in. Physically, Hank was fine. Nobody was able to get close enough to either to Dean or himself, to cause any injures, not with their bodyguard Brock snapping necks while he walked. The worst that had happened to Hank was a small scrape on his hand from when fell, but that happened before the Monarch and his henchmen even showed up. Well the scrape and the fact he was currently standing in a puddle of human blood.

Hank stared down at his feet, he tried to lift his foot but the bloody mud kept it in place. He tried again and it sent small red ripples through the puddle. ‘Move,’ Hank thought. Once more he tried to move but he tripped belly-flopping into the pool of blood. His white long sleeve shirt was now blood red and had small clumps of skin and meat hanging off his off it was well. Brock’s serrated blade usually left small bits of fleshy pulp lying around.

He felt like he was sinking, deeper and deeper he would slip into the blood puddle, unable to pull himself out. Panic filled his chest, if he didn't’ move he drown where he was, and would just be another corpse in the yard. His fingers dug into the blood soaked mud and pulled himself up. As he stood, his feet wobbled underneath of him, the ever darkening environment sent shivers down his spine. He felt trapped as he looked down at his now blood and shirt stained clothes.

“What do you think you’re doing hank?” his father called, “stop playing around, H.E.L.P.e.R is going to finish cleaning up.” The sigh of circuits could be heard as their families robot assistant whirled around the lawn trying to carry a human torso.

“Gosh, sorry pop,” Hank forced out, as he dragged his way across the lawn, past smoldering debris and limbs.

Hank always felt like he was getting the short end of every situation. Dean while being the younger twin was the smart one, the one good with science. While he on the other hand really only knew about DC Comics, moreover Batman. He idolized the Dark Knight, the way he solved crimes, the way he dressed, even how he spoke, more than once for fun Hank had dressed up in a cheap Batman suit muttering ‘I am the Bat.’ Unfortunately none seemed to think it was amusing except for him.

He pulled open the large doors into the lobby of the building, as he walked through the all white lobby he left a trail of bloody footsteps.

In the bathroom, Hank stood in front of the mirror examining himself, his golden blond hair now caked with blood looked gingery. But that could be fixed with a shower, not even a wash could save his clothes. He stripped slowly, untying his blue neckerchief, and trying to no to get the blood on his shirt near his face as he removed it.

He looked down at his smooth, slender body, he liked to pretend he was a ladies man in the whole idea of fake it until you make it. His chest was apparent but wasn’t very large, and aside from his top two abs making a distinct line of where his rib cage ended he didn’t have abs much either. Reaching down he unbuttoned his pants and stripped them down along with the rest of what he was wearing. He continued to examine himself, his short blond pubic hair, his newly circumcised penis which happened thanks to one of his adventure, when an indigenous tribe wanted to honor him traditionally.

The shower he took was longer than it probably should have been, he washed his hair too many times, he felt dirty. Hank felt like he could still feel his blood soaked hair clinging to him, even though his hair had returned to its natural color. He aggressively scrubbed everywhere wanting to remove the dirt, the blood, wishing he could scrub away the memories.

Too many times had he seen things he wish he could un-see. He remembered too many horrible memories the screams of people as they were killed whether intentionally or accidentally, with them just in the wrong place at the wrong time. His father’s career as a super-scientist was dangerous but the idiots dressed spandex that had no care for human life were more dangerous. He thought about Brock, even though his father had hired him to keep him and Dean safe, he wasn’t just their bodyguard. At least he liked to think so, Brock had become a real member of the family, he could rely on him.

The water poured over Hank as the events of the night replayed over and over through his head, the heads snapping the guts and blood being spilled as knives were sliced through people. Brock, even in Hank’s memory, moved swiftly almost as if he were dancing across the lawn. It would have looked beautiful if you simply forgot he was killing people to protect him. Hank shuttered at the thought, he just witnessed it, Brock was the one who was actively killing people earlier that day to protect the ones he care about.

Hank turned off the water, ‘I may be struggling, but he must be too,’ he thought as he dried himself off and went back to his room. Dean was already preparing for bed, in the specialty learning beds that their father invented so they didn’t have to go to school. While in use the bed’s also scanned Hank, and Dean’s minds recording their thoughts, memories and feelings. In case the boy’s ever died the information scanned from their heads would be implanted into the mind of a rightfully aged clone. This was a top secret project that their father Rusty had began when they were young, in a part of the building under lock and key were dozens of clones of each boy ready to be implanted and come to life. Of course neither boy knew about that, only their father, Brock and other need to know people did.

“Do-,” Hank started looking for the right words as he got dressed for the night. “Don’t you ever get tired of all of this?”

“This, what?”

“This insanity, don’t you ever just want to be normal and not have to worry about being attacked and witnessing a massacre once a week?” The words poured out of him and wouldn’t stop, they all had a bitter edge that cut through the room. Each word was like an attack against his brother. “I for one am tired of it,” he could feel his face flushing and left before he would let Dean see how embarrassed he was. That certainly wasn’t how he meant for that conversation to go.

In his grey pyjama pants and batman shirt, Hank walked through the corridors of Venture Industries building, which served as the base of operations for his father’s nearly deceased company but also as their home. The long and empty hall was practically a graveyard the to former great company that it was when Venture Industries was first founded by Hank’s grandfather, from the moving walkway to the old faded blue paint.

The entire building was eerie, Hank wasn’t sure how long he was in the shower and definitely didn’t know what time it was when he walked down the stairs. He could still hear the sounds of H.E.L.P.e.R outside, which creeped him out even further. While he was safe and cozy in his warm home, there were human remains being cremated in the building’s furnace.

“Ugh.” Hank could hear grunts coming from down the hall, regardless of how unnerved he felt, curiosity still got the better of him. As he got closer to where the noise was coming from he realized it was emanating from Brock’s room. He still didn’t know what time it was, but assuming it was pretty late, he was surprised to find Brock was still up. Working out too, from the sounds of it.

Hank had been in Brock’s room plenty of times, but never when he was working out. It scared him sometimes, being around Brock. He knew his intimidating bodyguard would never hurt him or the rest of the family. But after seeing time and time again the destruction that he was capable of it made Hank cautious.  
After a few moments of contemplation for Hank, the grunts on the other side of the door ceased, and the door flung open. He flinched in surprise not expecting Brock’s statuesque physique to fill the entire doorway.

“Ya need something?” Brock asked while taking a drag off his cigarette, and stepping back allowing Hank space to enter the room.

“Um…” he couldn’t find the right words. He could never find the right words. “I wanted to talk to you about some things.” Hank figured that sounded vague enough that it wouldn’t let Brock guess what this conversation was going to be about.

“Hank, if this is a question about sex, than it is a question for your father. Although I definitely have more experience than him.”

“What? No! It’s nothing like that,” he could feel his face filling with blood as he blushed at how awkward this conversation had turned as well.

“Good,” Brock sighed in relief. It’s not that he wasn’t willing to have that conversation if and when it needed to be done. Hell he really would do a better job at it that Rusty, it just caught him off guard.

Brock stood shirtless in the middle of the room, still sweaty from working out. Working out helps, it really does. If he’s too tired from everything than he would be too tired to dream. For most people dreams are a pleasant escape from the mundane existence of life. But for Brock it was another thing entirely, on the off chance when he does actually dream he is dragged back to the hell of war.

What felt like a lifetime ago Brock served in active duty with the Organization of Secret Intelligence otherwise known as the OSI. He spent long hard years of his life training to be the perfect soldier, battling rogue agents, and dodging exploding grenades. Blood painted the horrific image of Brock’s past. When he slept all those from his past reached for him to drag him into the fiery pit that he had sent them to.

He took a towel and began to wipe himself off, while he did so Hank blush an even darker shade of red. Hank had never gotten anywhere sexually. When he looked at Brock’s chest which glistened with sweat his mind automatically went to vulgar thoughts of what it would be like to feel Brock’s chest, among other things.

“Well?” Brock asked, shaking Hank’s thought process.

“I,” he began taking a seat on the edge of Brock’s bed. He gazed down at the floor, when Brock set down next to him.

“It’s alright kid,” Brock said as he wiped away a tear on Hank’s face. Hank didn’t realize that he was crying, and his tear being brushed away made him even more embarrassed. How was he suppose to talk about what had just happened? Especially has he was currently leaning against the shoulder of the man who he just witnessed murder people. He felt minuscule, physically, mentally.

“Now why don’t you tell me what this is about,” Brock easily lifted Hank’s face to his to look into his eyes.

“You.”

“Me?”

“How do you do it? You seem entirely unphased by what happened earlier,” Hank pulled away from Brock, unable to look at him. Brock felt even more thrown off than he had when he thought Hank needed the sex talk. Here the boy was practically in tears asking how his actions don’t haunt him. It was insulting, that was all that he could think about. What was he to say? Did Hank really want an answer, the truth, or just something to make him feel better?

Before he could even respond Hank had pulled him into a hug and was burying his face in Brock’s chest. He pulled the younger man into himself, hugging him, trying to protect him again. But protecting him emotionally wasn’t as easy as physically.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Hank blubbered out.

“I guess, bud.”

“Thanks,” Hank said while pulling Brock even closer. “Pe-Ew, you might want to shower again though.”

“Yeah,” Brock said making his way to his bag of toiletries and heading to the employee showers. Unfortunately there wasn’t a shower in Brock’s room as it use to be an office. With his towel in hand he entered the dark secluded locker room.

Stripping down, he threw his shorts on a bench, and placed his towel next to it. He walked the short distance to the wall of showers, turned one on, and waited for the water to become warm. He stood naked checking every few seconds to check the water. Brock was a very muscular man, his blonde mullet cascaded down his shoulders.

With the water warm he stepped under it letting the heat surround him. Water flowed over him and splattered onto the floor, it dripped from the tip of his penis and over his beautiful round butt. He lathered up while thinking, thinking about what had happened. Thinking about how he just agreed to let Hank sleep in his room, which wasn’t a big deal to him, that is if he didn’t dream.

He was mostly worried what the Doc would say, he mostly would be upset that Hank didn’t use his learning bed. It’d be like Hank was ditching school. But he would also be thankful he wouldn’t have had to put up with his son while crying. The last thing Doc would want it to actually have to parent his own children.  
While lathering himself up Brock let his hands linger as they grazed his penis. ‘Jerking off might help tire him out,’ he figured. ‘At least then I’m less likely to get morning wood, which would be awkward with Hank there.’

One hand slowly moved up and down his shaft, teasing his cock to life. While the other hand softly pinched his nipples. The heat felt good everywhere on him, especially his back. Water kissed the curves of him as he began to jerked off. His eight-inch, uncut cock filled his hand, it was a lot to hold.

Molotov Cocktease came to him in his thoughts. Her sight spandex suit, her supple body, her perfect breast, she knew exactly how to turn Brock on. He thought about how it would feel to have her go down on him, to take his rock hard dick into her mouth. Brock jerked harder on his cock oblivious to everything except how good it felt.

His other hand moved down to stroke his balls. His breathing became ragged and deep as he was nearing release. Off balance, the hand on his balls went to the wall to keep him from falling over. He closed his eyes and stroked harder and faster. With a loud groan erupting from his chest, Brock spewed his cum all over the wall. His jizz dripped off his dick as he calmed down from his massive orgasm.

He dried and made his way back to his room where he found Hank already asleep on the floor. With a sigh he climbed into bed and tried to go sleep.

* * *

 

It was around around 4am when Hank woke to the sounds of yelling. He leaped to his feet, and immediately stumbled still being half asleep. He propped himself up on the side of Brock’s bed, adjusting to everything. It took him a moment to deduce where the yells were coming from, then he realized it was Brock. He wasn’t hurt, physically at least from what Hank could see, but all the same he was kicking and yelling in his sleep.

He was unsure of what to do. The last thing Hank wanted was to get close enough to Brock to try and wake him up. If he was too close than Brock would accidentally knock him silly and after seeing what he was capable of that is the last thing Hank wanted.  
Standing a safe distance away Hank started to hum a lullaby that he had heard somewhere.

“...and if that mockingbird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

As hand continued on and on, Brock’s yells subsided and slowly stopped thrashing about. When it seemed safe Hank started to lower his voice and trail off the song. He leaned in to pat Brock good night on the shoulder, but as he did so he was pulled down onto the bed. Hank tried to fight but stopped when he realized he wasn’t being hurt. Brock unconsciously held him against him, and smiled in his sleep finally having a pleasant dream. Hank just went with it enjoying the feeling of being held against Brock.


	2. Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Hank eat breakfast before being taken as The Monarch's prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started off as an original chapter, but then it started becoming a retelling of that one testicle torsion episode from season one.

Brock was surrounded. He had been fighting for what felt like forever. He was exhausted both mentally and physically. His enemies were coming closer, one by one the disfigured remains of the henchman Brock had killed approached, ready to return the favor. Brock was done, he was already bleeding and had no more energy to fight. He curled into a ball awaiting his doom, taking his final moments in stride.

But he had a plan. When he was surrounded he would let loose all he had left and swing and kick, because if he was going down, he was going to go down swinging, literally. The seconds ticked by as Brock waited. But they longer, it felt like an eternity. He just wanted to get it over with. Then it finally happened the first of the painful blows began to rain-down upon him, and that was he cue. His fast fists flew all around pounding whatever they collided with.

There were too many of them he couldn’t hold out for long, it was officially a lost cause for him to fight. Just then a miracle occured the painful blows stopped. He slowly opened his eyes unsure of what he would see. When he did he saw the most beautiful angel coming down and choir sang in the background. The angel was the most beautiful thing Brock has ever seen. He was a mix between Adonis, Hercules, and was graced with the stunningly powerful wings of Icarus. He cringed in pain reaching up to touch the angel. He need to touch him to believe he was really there.

Brock struggled to rise to his feet, he stumbled and the angel reached out to support him. With the small amount of strength he still possessed he pulled the angel close not wanting to let go. Effortlessly the angel stretched out it’s silvery wings and carried Brock away. He looked down at the devastation and destruction he was leaving. Brock felt safe for the first real time he could remember in the arms of this angel.

* * *

 It was early the next morning when Hank was finally about to slip out of Brock’s stone like grip. He did manage to get a few more winks of sleep comfortably being held. Hank crept across the floor as quietly as he could. He went down stairs to the kitchen looking for something to eat. It was at that moment he thought it would be nice to make Brock breakfast as a way to say thank you for letting Hank sleep with him.

He opened the fridge and assessed his best options of what to make. The final decision was bacon, fried eggs, toast with jelly, and orange juice, a classic. After burning the first batch of eggs, the second attempt finished up right as everything else was ready. He loaded up the delicious smelling bacon, fresh squeezed juice, golden-brown toast and giant platter of egg onto a tray.  
Hank had never really cooked before, not much anyway. H.E.L.P.e.R. was the one who usually cooked. But he didn’t really want to eat anything that the robot handled anymore, not after it spent the night dragging human limbs to the incinerator. Ignoring that Hank carried the breakfast back down the hall.

“Good morning, Brock,” Hank exclaimed while entering. Brock was just getting up, he stirred with a smile on his face and glanced up at Hank.

“Morning.”

“Sleep well? Made you breakfast to say thanks for letting me crash here,” Hank said while sitting down next to Brock on the bed.

“Eh, yeah I did. First time in a while,” Brock mumbled as he took a plate of food. “Thanks.”

“Hope you like bacon,” Hank said taking a big bite.

They ate in silence, both of them still only half dressed. Hank in his orange Aquaman scales shirt and green briefs. Brock in just a pair of boxers. As they ate Hank couldn’t help but steal glances at Brock’s massive chest, like last night. Brock was thoroughly enjoying the food, which was a surprise to him.

“Did H.E.L.P.e.R. make this,” Brock asked.

“Nope. Yours truly did. Not bad for a first shot.”

“Not bad at all.” Brock stared at his plate contemplating everything. Being trained with the O.S.I. he had to plan out every possible scenario. Brock was actually amazed he woke up fresh and well rested for the first time since the academy. He thought about the events of last night, he thought about the way Hank looked with tears of anguish in his eyes.

“Eh, you know,” Brock started. “I never did really answer your question last night.”

Hank was taken aback he didn’t really want to remember his embarrassing scene from the night before. But curiosity pushed him further. “What question,” he asked.

“How I deal with it,” Brock stared into space, not wanted to make eye contact. “It’s not easy. People will say it gets easier. That it will become like second nature, that you won’t really notice. Personally I think that’s a whole load of bullshit. I’ve been doing this for a long time and I can still see the face of every man I’ve killed. OSI regulation prohibits killing Women and children.” Brock’s voiced broke as he looked down at his lap.

Hank was surprised how open Brock was being. He didn’t really know what the tank of a man was going to say. If he was being honest Hank was actually enjoying seeing Brock with his guard down. He reached out and patted Brock’s knee in support. Brock looked up at Hank, his messy hair cascading around him as they locked eyes.

Brock put larger hand over Hank’s. “It’s not really all the death that taxes me,” Brock fibed. “It’s trying to be everywhere at once. That fucking butterfly freak is a handful.” He took another bite.

Hank stared at Brock, thinking about what he was saying. That was when he got the idea.

“Train me,” Hank blurted out causing Brock to choke on his juice. “Hear me out,” he continued. “It would be just some basic self defence moves. That way you won’t feel the need to cover me that heavily.”

Brock pondered the idea. “That’s not a half bad idea. Both you and Dean could use to defense know how. At least when it comes to the simple stuff.”

They finished breakfast for the most part in silence. Hank was excited to train, he viewed it as his being to be a hero. The idea of Brock dressed as Batman and Hank his Robin made him smile. Although for reasons Hank couldn’t explain the idea of Dean being invited was just a put off. Batman never has two Robin’s at a time. A Robin and Batgirl maybe, but they were both boys. The idea of Dawn their “long lost sister” coming in to be Batgirl made Hank chuckle.

Hank took the plates in hand, and prepared to leave. “Thanks again Brock for letting me sleep here.”

“Anytime. Thank you for making breakfast.” Brock smiled as Hank left.

It was all very mind boggling to Brock. Why was it that he finally had a good night’s sleep? Whatever it was he was just thankful he didn’t wake up screaming and thrashing. That probably would have scared Hank to death, let alone forcing him to have to explain PTSD. He thought back to his dream, and the angel saving him. It felt so good to hold on and be saved from the torment, even if it was only for one night.

As Brock rose and prepared for the day, in front of the mirror he noticed an odd design on his skin. His first thought was that it was a rash, but it glittered. Under further inspection he realized that it was a scale design. Instantly he felt mortified, he knew exactly what that impression came from, Hank’s shirt. When he held onto the angel of his dreams he held onto Hank.

With that information Brock didn’t know what to do. If he had hurt Hank in his sleep, surely he wouldn’t have made breakfast for the both of them this morning. Did Hank even know? Brock automatically disregarded that thought as it arose because of course Hank knew. How could he not have known? But he didn’t say anything when they ate. It all baffled Brock. Once again though he thought about his dream and how everything improved while the angel appearing. He thought about how he woke up actually feeling like he slept well.

Upon further thought, Brock decided he wouldn’t bring it up unless Hank did. 

* * *

 Hank crept into his and Dean’s room right before their learning beds automatically slid open, then right on clockwork they did.

“You’re up early,” Dean noticed.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Hank said as he dressed. “Sorry I was such a butt yesterday.”

“Already forgiven.”

Hank looked out the window. The front lawn was clean, as if the tragic events of yesterday were nothing more than a bad dream.

“Pretty day, isn’t it,” Dean proclaimed standing next to his brother.

“It sure is,” Hank smiled. “Want to head down to the kitchen?”

“Sounds good.”

The two boys walked down to the kitchen where they were greeted by their robot assistant H.E.L.P.e.R. aggressively cleaning a pan. The same one Hank used to make bacon an hour ago. Dean went to the cupboard to get a glass wanting to pour some orange juice, only to be disappointed there wasn’t any left. Instead he poured water, as he drank he looked at Hank. Hank hadn’t stopped smiling since their beds opened. It all seemed very odd to Dean.

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Dean said examining Hank’s reaction.

“I guess I am. Slept well.” Hank remarked.

The animatronic voice of H.E.L.P.e.R. interrupted announcing breakfast throughout the compound. Then in blurry the robot had already cracked open eggs on the stove and was preparing bacon. Although it all smelled delicious, because when doesn’t bacon smell good, Hank wasn’t hungry yet.

Dr. Venture entered the kitchen, and Hank spun around in his chair to greet him. “Morning pop.”

“What are you so happy about,” Dr. Venture asked.

“Just slept well.”

“Well that makes one of us I was tossing and turning all night. I think I need a new mattress,” he complained as he he took a piece of bacon.

“That stinks,” Dean chimed in.

“Good Morning,” Brock proclaimed as he entered the kitchen for coffee.

“What’s so good about it?” Dr. Venture questioned.

Brock just shrugged, unsure what to say in response. H.E.L.P.e.R. sat down a big plate of eggs on the table and both Dr. Venture and Dean dove in. Brock and Hank held back to watch. It was quite a sight when all was said and done the plate was empty and Dr. Venture had egg on his face. 

* * *

It was about noon when everyone loaded into the X1 jet. Dr. Venture had decided to take a sudden trip to the amazon, looking for a specific plant that was important for his research. They all unloaded off the plane and stretched their achy limbs.

“Gee, who would have thought that today would bring a trip to South America?” Dean asked optimistically.

“Gotta pee!” Hank called as he ran off into the woods.

“Hank be careful,” Brock called out. “Doc, why are we really here?” Dr. Venture was examining a book, “We are looking for a bird.”

“A bird?”

“The Amazonian Cockatoos feathers are so soft that they’d make a perfect new pillow for my bed,” he explained.

“I think this is the biggest waste of resources you’ve ever done,” Brock criticized. “Anyways I want to teach the Hank and Dean self defence.”

“What? Why? That’s why you’re here.”

“Yeah but you know how much trouble they get into, and you only have so many clones.”

“I suppose it’s a good idea.”

Just like clockwork the yells of Hank came tearing through the forest. Followed by the maniacal laughter of The Monarch. Just then the camp was surrounded and a knock out canister was thrown into the middle of everyone. Brock fought the gas but eventually succumb to it. Then they were proceeded to be tied up and hung over a river.

“What the fuck?” Brock cursed, when he woke up. Which then promptly awoke the others from their forced slumber.

“Now Dr. Venture, welcome to the end of the line,” boasted the Monarch. “Beneath you are man eating piranha.”

“Oww,” cried Dean.

“Time out,” called Dr. Venture.

“What time out? You can’t call time out,” refuted the Monarch.

“Rusty’s Code under the guidelines of the Guide of Clamatics Intent, in the event of a medical emergency all henching shall be put on hold.”

“Damn!” cried the Monarch after examining the guide book, “He’s right.”

“What’s wrong Dean?” Brock asked.

“I don’t know! It just feels like someone kicked me in the groin and left their foot.”

“We’re taking him to a doctor,” Dr. Venture announced.

“Fine but we’re keeping him as collateral,” The Monarch said ushering to Hank.

“No can do,” said Brock. “I’m the bodyguard if he goes than I do.”

“Fine,” The Monarch cursed.

They were all untied, Dean and Dr. Venture returned to the X1 in search of medical care. Hank and Brock were taken prisoners of the Monarch.


	3. A Night in the Monarch's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what this chapter is. It was suppose to be fluff, but also have sexual tension. I don't entirely think I captured that. But whatever.

The Cocoon of the Monarch was less intimidating the second and third time around, Hank and Dean had already been captured and held hostage by the Monarch before, but this time it was different. It was Hank and Brock together, which automatically put Hank at further ease, why be frightened when you have your own personal Batman to defend you.

The grand control room was where they were taken first. “This is the brain of the whole operation,” The Monarch boasted. “What is on for the agenda?” He demanded.

“Well nothing, while were on hold with Venture nothing can happen,” a henchman declared.

“This is embarrassing,” the Monarch muttered to Dr. Girlfriend. “Take them to a holding cell.”

A scrawny henchman came forward to lead them to their holding cell. It was small, there was no door, only bars, and contained one bed. Great, Brock thought to himself. A night of sleeping on the floor didn’t sound too appealing, but of course he would offer the bed to Hank.

“Nightie-Night,” the henchman called as he locked them inside.

“Well,” Hank said, “How long until you think everything with Dean is sorted out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well what do you want to do?”

“Sleep. My back is killing me from that ride in the X1. Now we’re being held captive by a psychopath who dresses like a butterfly, in a floating headquarters, somewhere in the middle of Brazil. So I’m gonna conserve my energy,” Brock ranted.

“Should I consider that lesson one,” Hank asked?

“Yeah,” Brock muttered while sitting next to Hank on the bed, while rubbing his shoulder, “Know when to pick your battles.”

Hank could see Brock was tense, he supposed getting held hostage is probably stressful for the strong one of the group. He reached out and touched Brock’s back, who slightly flinched and turned allowing Hank more access.

Hank ground his fingertips deep into the sensitive muscles of Brock’s back. “Lay out,” Hank directed. Brock adjusted, removed his shirt, and laid flat on the bed. Hank kneeled over him, his groin, hovering just inches away from Brock. Hank rubbed, up and down Brock’s back. He was tense it was obvious, he had knots all though his back and sides. All the friction, and the opportunity to rub Brock so delicately was turning Hank on in ways he didn’t entirely understand, but it was clear he had an erection that was tenting in his shorts, that he hoped Brock couldn’t feel.

But Brock could feel it. He could feel the outline of Hank’s manhood pressed against his butt. He had never had sex with another man before, sure Shoreleave had offered back in the day but it never happened. Brock had to admit though his back was feeling a whole lot better, it no longer felt like he would rip in two if he turned the wrong way, all his tightness was gone. He appreciated Hank for the things he did, being there.

He thought about this morning, how he woke up so rested. He could never really put it into words and tell Hank how much he appreciated it, appreciated him.

“You should get some rest,” Hank murmured, “You take the bed. You need a better nights sleep than I do.”

Brock could’t object with that, he just hoped that he could stay silent in his dreams again tonight. Hank hopped of the bed, and Brock dropped his pant, and underwear. Hank curled up on the floor, Brock on the bed. Neither one, entirely excited about the rangement, both secretly wishing they were together on the bed.

The minutes ticked by, it had been maybe an hour since lights out. Brock was in a beginnings of a restless sleep. Hank was freezing on the floor, he curled into a ball into a ball to try and conserve heat. He thought about it, the possibility of climbing into the nice warm bed with Brock. Their body heat coming together and warming Hank’s frigid bones. The thoughts of warmth, and more so Brock’s warmth, warming him up was delightful to Hank. He also loved the idea of stopping another one of Brock’s screaming fits. It was clear to him that the day had stressed Brock out, but the way he looked this morning, with a smile on his face, was what caused Hank to move.

He crept forward, hesitant. He didn’t want to even think about if in Brock’s dream he thought Hank was an intruder and attacked him. Sing, he thought. Just like last night if he could sing Brock to some security he wouldn’t attack. Hank through his shivers worked up some courage to sing, no louder than a whisper to Brock.

Brock’s strained grunts from his dream ceased. Hank thought about it though, and Brock was naked. What made today different than yesterday he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to keep a barrier. Hank slipped of his shoes and slid under the blanket. It was warm. Brock was warm. Hank instinctively slid closer to Brock and before he knew it his whole body was in contact with Brock’s. In response Brock brought his arm around pulling Hank closer, he laid his face against Brock’s chest and enjoyed it. The sense of protection Brock emitted made Hank feel loved in a way he never felt in response to his father. He also loved that he was able to help Brock, get another good night sleep.

As they laid together, Hank tried not to think about Brock’s perfect chest, which he was currently clutched against. Or Brock’s massive penis which was poking Hank in the stomach and starting to get hard. He wanted to touch it, Hank wasn’t sure why he did, but he was in awe of Brock’s massive manhood and wanted to grasp it to feel its weight, its girth. Hank glanced down in the darkness and felt inadequate compared to Brock, in every sense. Hank lifted his hand wanting to grasp Brock, but he also thought about how wrong that was. There was nothing sexual about this experience, other than Brock’s nudity. As much as he wanted to, he also didn’t entirely want it to be in the Monarch’s holding cell.

Hank lowered his hand, at the same time Brock pulled him even closer. In the roll, Hank ended up being twisted and the two of them began spooning. Brock pulled Hank’s back close against his chest, at the same time Hank become embarrassed by the massive erection grinding into his back. Hank pushed back enjoying the warmth of being pressed against Brock and the sensation of Brock’s erection. But with this movement, Brock began grinding. His erection rubbed back and forth behind Hank, and part of him regret pushing back, another part was thankful he decided to wear his clothes. Brock instinctively held him closer, the grinding continued. Brock’s breathing was becoming ragged, Hank knew what was coming, Brock was. Brock continued to grind his hips, his erection dug deeper against Hanks back, only to find its way under Hank’s shirt.

Hank didn’t react, he felt it was his own fault, he got what he wanted. More than he wanted, not only did he get to touch Brock’s dick, he now was about to feel Brock spray his cum across Hank’s back. Given he didn’t hate the idea, just wished that this wasn’t the environment.

Brock let out a deep groan, and ground harder into Hank’s back. Gush after gush of Brock’s cum sprayed against Hanks back. It was warm and thick, and wouldn’t stop. After what felt like forever, it finally stopped, and Hank was soaked through. Brock unconsciously pulled Hank closer, his hot breath on Hank’s ear whispered.

“Stay,” that’s what it sounded like. Hank was thrown through a loop. Brock and just cum all over him and whispered to stay. His mind was racing, trying to figure out who Brock though he just came all over. Hank’s only guess was Molotov Cocktease, but he was pretty certain whatever relationship the two of them had it wasn’t the emotional kind. Only the sexual frustration kind. Hank slowly drifted to sleep, still confused.

* * *

Brock was in his old OSI jet, and it was going down. He was alone, with only his thoughts on his impending death. He let out a yelp in fear, and in response was greeted by the return of the angel that save him before. Brock was thankful and clutched onto the angel, only to be flown to safety. Brock and the angel landed down in a meadow, as the plane crashed somewhere in the distance. The angel turned to leave.

“Wait,” Brock called out, “Don’t go.” The angel turned to look at Brock, he blushed and looked away.

“Why must I stay,” the angel asked.

“I want you to.”

“Want me to, how can you want me to do anything, you don’t know me.”

“I’d like to,” Brock said as he approached the angel. “What is your name?”

“Knah,” replied the angel.

“Well Knah, thanks for eh saving my life. Again.” Brock was overcome with emotion, this angel, Knah was so beautiful in person, he had tan skin and bright white wings. They were less than a foot apart.

“Is there anything else you need,” beckoned Knah? Brock shook his head no, and stopped as the angel kissed him, laid his perfect pink lips against Brocks. The kiss wasn’t forceful, or rushed. There was all the time in the world and they took advantage of that.

Brock broke the kiss first, but refused to part with Knah and held him in his arms. “Where did you come from,” Brock asked.

“Come from,” asked Knah? “I’ve always been with you, but never where you would have expected.” Kanh pulled Brock closer as well, the skin on skin contact have Brock and erection. Both of their hips ground together as they supported each other’s weight.

“What do you mean?” Brock asked through breathless moans.

“What I said, and I’ll never leave you. You’ll just have to look.” Knah returned to kissing Brock, he longed to feel them together again. The passion was electric between them, Brock pulled Knah closer, he couldn’t get enough of their skin touching. The friction was enjoyable to him, he wanted more, but wasn’t sure how to say to.

Knah reached a hand down and groped Brock, and received a groan of pleasure in response. Before Brock knew he was cumming, and Knah tried to pull apart.

“Stay,” Brock pled.

“Only for a little while longer,” Knah replied. The two of them laid in the meadow together for what felt like forever.

* * *

Brock awoke to find himself clutching a sleeping Hank in his arms. He shifted, only to find his front was stuck to the back of Hanks shirt, and that his penis was touching Hanks back. Hank rolled over, burying himself in Brock’s chest. Brock blushed, at least his dick was no longer in direct skin contact with Hank, he thought.

He didn’t know what time it was, early. The Monarch’s guards hadn’t even checked on them yet. Brock thought about his dream. About the glorious angel of Knah, what did any of it mean? Not only in his dream had he made out with another guy, well angel, but that guy had also jerked him off until he came. Brock thought about the stickiness, realizing that he did in fact actually cum all over Hank. A wave of embarrassment washed over him.

But he continued to think, think about how aside from his unintentional ejaculation, he slept really well. Just like the night before. He looked down at the slumbering face of Hank how was nestled into his chest. The only factor which was different in Brock’s life, that had resulted in him getting two nights of good sleep was the addition of Hank. He wasn’t sure why, but it was kind of obvious. Brock softly rubbed Hanks back, as he thought about Knah. About the angel’s actual features. That’s when it occurred to Brock, aside from the wings, he was just a tan slightly more muscular version of Hank. Brock felt stupid for not noticing. Even his name was just Hank spelled backwards. Brock looked down again at Hank, what was he going to do? This was now two nights in a row that Hank had crawled into bed with him. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, he was just desperate to know what he was thinking. To hear his reasoning as to why. Brock had always known Hank looked up to him, but he wondered if it was something more now? He also felt the need to apologize for cumming on Hank’s back, but he didn’t really want to bring it up.

Hank started to stir, Brock dropped his hands, and thought it was best to play asleep, and just witness what Hank would do. Hank looked up at Brock and saw his still sleeping face, he realized he had to move before Brock woke up, but didn’t really want to. He snuggled close for another second enjoying the heat for a final moment. With his face buried in Brock’s chest, Hank gave him a slight kiss just above Brock’s heart.

“Morning, Brock. I’m glad I could help you sleep quietly again,” he said before moving out of bed.

Everything was baffling to Brock. Not only did Hank realize how he affected Brock’s sleep. But he also seemed to enjoy it being with him. Brock pretended to stir, and grazed above his heart, thinking about how Hank kissed him, and thinking about the passionate kissing between him and Knah.

“Morning,” Brock smiled.

“G’Morning. How’d you sleep?” he asked fully aware Brock slept great.

“Not bad.” Brock said, “You?”

“Pretty good. Floor was kinda cold though.”

That statement confused Brock, but he was also partially expecting it. Expecting, Hank to pretend that he wasn’t just cuddling up to his chest. Pretending that he slept on the floor all night. He reached down and pulled on his pants, if Hank was going to go on pretending, than so could he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth Chapter might be around next week, depending on how college goes this week.
> 
> Also enjoy this companion piece of fan art to go with the chapter!!!
> 
> https://gaysupertoonporn.tumblr.com/post/171225687008/can-you-do-brock-samson-and-hank-venture-cuddling


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